


Something Magical About You

by RenderedReversed



Series: Things I Probably Won't Finish [8]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Secret Identity, Yuuri Katsuki in high heels, Yuuri Katsuki in knee-high boots, don't mind me, just hurting my baes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 04:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenderedReversed/pseuds/RenderedReversed
Summary: There are three reasons why Yuuri Katsuki decides to retire after the Sochi Grand Prix Finals:One, his disastrous performance at said finals.Two, he hasn’t seen his family in five years, and it’s about time he does that.And three, there is a magical talking cat in his room and he knows exactly where this is going.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have no idea how long this is going to be. Oneshot? Twoshot? Maybe three? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

When Yuuri returns to his dorm and finds not Phichit, but a familiar black cat waiting in his room, he knows where this is going.

“Form a contract with me,” Span says, licking his paws, “Again.”

Yuuri doesn’t even show up for Nationals. He finishes his degree the fastest he can, bids a tearful goodbye to his best friend, and takes the next flight back to Japan. He thinks, _you couldn’t have picked a better time_.

He thinks, _Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, sixth place GPF finalist. Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, retired amateur figure skater._

He thinks, _Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, somehow expected to save the world and probably going to flub that, too._

Span’s tail slaps his face. “You gained weight. I’ll make you lose it.”

“Don’t talk in public,” says Yuuri. The flight attendants giggle and point at his plush cat toy for the rest of the flight.

* * *

Hasetsu welcomes him back as if he’d never left. All the faces he remembered look a little older, a little more wrinkled, but they’re still the same. Yuuri ducks and flinches his way past their smiles for a good week, running the paths less traveled as he forces himself back into shape.

Span sits draped across his shoulder and watches him with half-lidded eyes. He knows, he knows, he knows.

His mother and father coo over the return of the funny-looking black cat. Mari, more cautious, eyes them both during meal times. She ruffles his hair, tells him where the first aid kit is if he ever needs it. It makes him feel guilty, because he hasn’t said a word and yet. Everyone knows why he’s back, and it’s not for them. His mom makes him katsudon anyway.

He skates while he still can. Competition, Yuuri knows, is out of the question, but the ice calls to him like a siren song, and he, the sailor, willingly wrecks his ship for it. Like in Detroit, he flubs his jumps time and time again. Nothing changes. Span watches from the side of the rink, Yuuri trains, and nothing changes.

“They’ll come soon,” Span says. His triangle-shaped mouth barely moves as he speaks. “You should do something else with your time.”

As a reply, Yuuri prepares for another jump. He flies, over-rotates, and comes crashing down against the ice. That’ll definitely bruise.

“Stupid,” Span says.

The rink is cold against his back. Yuuri lies there for a long time, thinking. He hasn’t released a formal retirement notice yet, but he doesn’t have a coach. He didn’t even participate in Nationals. The world has probably forgotten him already. Viktor never even knew his name.

 _Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, retired amateur figure skater_ , he thinks. _Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, yesterday’s news_.

He lifts an arm and raises his hand to the ceiling, splaying his fingers as if there’s something there to catch. There’s nothing. What is he even reaching for? What can he reach for, when everything’s already over?

“I will,” Yuuri says. “I’ll say goodbye. Just give me a little bit longer.”

Span flicks his tail at him. Yuuri, thinking of Yuuko, thinking of a time before when everything was so much simpler, when he’d yet to bomb a competition or make a fool of himself before his idol, when Vicchan was still alive—Yuuri gets up.

“Just a little bit longer,” he murmurs. And then he starts to skate again.

* * *

Yuuko cries. “You can’t retire,” she says, “You can’t. Not after that. Not after—”

“I am,” he tells her, Viktor’s program still fresh on his skates. “I’m sorry. You know why. This is my…this is my goodbye.”

She laughs while she cries. “It’s a good one.”

* * *

The first time Yuuri transforms is a disaster.

“Span, these are boots.”

“Hmm, yes,” says Span.

“They have _heels_ ,” Yuuri stresses, because his magical talking cat partner doesn’t seem to understand his sense of urgency. How is he going to fight in heels? He pops a leg up and points at the thin, fragile stiletto. “Heels!”

“It’s a confidence booster,” is all Span says, yawning.

“I distinctly do not remember wearing a skirt the first time we contracted,” declares Yuuri, pinching the fabric between his fingers. He is 23 years old. He knows what people wear to go clubbing, and apparently, it’s the same outfit 23-year-old magical girls fight monsters in. Go figure.

(He’s wearing a half skirt and a pair of booty shorts. Good lord.)

“Skirt, dress, same thing,” Span says. “All magic, remember?”

“And the top?” Yuuri demands, picking at the black mesh of his sleeves. “How is this practical?”

Span side-eyes him. “You don’t like it?”

Yuuri looks in the mirror and flushes. He imagines Viktor, skating his short program at the Junior World Championships. In retrospect, it makes sense. The ice rink and Viktor are synonyms in Yuuri’s head, and even though he’s said goodbye to them, they’re permanent residents in his heart.

But, the boots. He tests his range of motion in them. Yuuri’s worn heels before, but never over-the-knee boots. None of them can ever fit his calves, but these…these fit like a second skin. The leather looks like it’s been painted on his legs. He bites his lip.

“I’ll become a vigilante,” he says, and what he means is, _no one can ever see me like this_. If this leaks on the internet—if Phichit gets a hold of a picture—“Could you make me a mask?”

Span flicks his tail. It’s a masquerade mask that turns his eye color red. The large crystals glint in the artificial lighting of his room.

“Good enough,” Yuuri says.

* * *

_Killer Whale_ is his nickname in the Japanese Magician Database. No one recognizes him as _Ballerina_ from a decade ago, which is probably for the best. Yuuri sends a mental apology to Minako-sensei. He knows she prefers him in tulle.

 _Japan’s Newest Magical Girl_ , the newspaper headline reads. They don’t even try to be politically correct and use the gender-neutral term ‘magician.’ No, instead, they call him a magical girl, and below the headline is a blurry image of Yuuri’s back as he fades back into the shadows. At least his ass looks pretty good.

“I’ll make you the best,” says Span.

“I don’t want to be the best,” Yuuri says as his head tells him, _Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, sixth place GPF finalist. Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, retired figure skating failure. Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, expected to—_

Span’s tail whacks him in the back of the head. “You were the best,” he says. “You’ll get there again.”

It soothes the ache a little until he thinks, _you’ll screw up again. It’s the Grand Prix all over._

But there’s a lot more riding on his shoulders than a medal. Yuuri shudders and curls up under his blankets.

Span jumps on top of him and settles down. “It’s not an expectation,” he tells him. “It’s fact.”

That doesn’t make him feel any better.

* * *

It’s an odd day in April when Yuuri wakes up to snow. Span’s ears perk, swiveling at the top of his head as his fur bristles.

“An irregularity,” he hisses. “A strong one.”

“In Hasetsu?” asks Yuuri. Monsters always spawn in his general vicinity, but ‘vicinity’ can be anywhere from here to Tokyo.

“The beach,” says Span. He leaps off the bed and darts his way to the door. “Let’s go.”

Yuuri’s out the door in two minutes, transforming in the next, and then traveling by rooftop towards the beach.

* * *

The irregularity turns out to be harder to deal with than he expected. Yuuri’s power is over water and ice, but so is his opponent’s, which leaves them in a battle of attrition that Yuuri, who’s got bruises on his bruises, eventually wins. He leaves the confused victim lying on the beach, but not before calling 119.

His transformation ended, Yuuri limps home in his PJs. This, Yuuri thinks, is going to happen a lot more often.

As he rounds the corner, something fluffy barrels into him.

“I’m so sorry!” someone exclaims. And then, there’s a gasp: “Katsuki-senpai?”

“Ah,” says Span.

“Um,” says Yuuri.

A short boy is currently looking at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky and pulled the islands from the seas. On his shoulder is a funny-looking rooster plushie. Yuuri’s gut tells him it’s not a plushie. His head tells him to run far, far away.

“Hm, so this is Ballerina, is it? Or is he Killer Whale now?” asks Div.

At the same time, the boy gushes: “My name is Kenjirou Minami, and I’m your biggest fan!”

All four of them blink.

Div turns to Minami, and Minami turns to Div.

“Ah?” says Minami.

“Oops,” says Div.

* * *

Yuuri doesn’t understand why anyone would ever want to skate like him. The magical girl part, on the other hand, he can kind of understand—Span is one of the top five meisters; of course there would be people who envy his contract with him, but—

“My two idols are the same person,” Minami mutters, eyes glinting as they sit across from each other at Yu-topia. “This is fate!”

Minami doesn’t make it sound like he’s talking about Span. Yuuri gulps down the rest of his tea.

“Minami-kun,” he begins, “Why are you here?”

“Some news article said you were retiring! But that’s obviously not true, right? Katsuki-senpai, you have to prove them wrong!”

“But I am retiring,” _have retired_ , “So they’re right.”

Minami's jaw drops. His eyes start to water. “But, but why?”

Off to the side, Div and Span appear to be having a conference. They lean their heads together, discussing in quiet tones that, over the usual din of the dining hall, Yuuri can’t decipher. The snow has long stopped falling outside. Everything is normal again, only it’s not, because he’s currently having lunch with another magical girl.

 _Another magical girl who also happens to be a figure skater._ Yuuri’s grip tightens around his empty tea cup.

“I can’t,” he says, watching his partner.

Minami follows the direction of his gaze and frowns. “O-oh,” he utters, and then he looks down at his lap. “W-will I also have to…?”

Yuuri’s heart breaks a little. Minami has a future. Minami will probably have a better future than washed out Yuuri. Minami can bring glory to their country in a way Yuuri miserably failed to. Minami shouldn’t be fighting at all.

Yuuri remembers what being Ballerina was like, all those years ago. He thinks about the four days he went missing, only to come back home battered and bleeding. Then several years later, he’d left home again, left his family again, to pursue his dreams. They’d suffered so much for him only for Yuuri to give them nothing in return.

 _I’m Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, retired amateur figure skater_ , Yuuri thinks. _Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, a nobody. I’ve said goodbye to the ice already. But, Minami. Minami, on the other hand…_

“No.”

Minami lifts his head.

“No,” Yuuri repeats again, firm. “You don’t have to quit. You love skating, don’t you?”

“I do,” Minami breathes.

“If it’s what you love—” his hands tremble, “—If it’s what you love, keep going. Don’t worry about Japan, or, or the world. You should get to do what you love. You’re only young once, so spend your time wisely.”

There’s a flutter of feathers, and then Div is in front of him.

“He does have to worry about the world. We’ve formed a contract already.”

Yuuri frowns and sends a look at Span. “Must you top five always choose them so young?”

Span’s tail lazily waves behind him. “They saw how you turned out, so now everyone’s copying me. I don’t control their actions.”

“Katsuki-senpai, be my coach!” shouts Minami.

Yuuri turns so fast he gives himself whiplash. “W-what?”

“Be my coach for the next season!”

“I can’t coach!” Yuuri sputters. “I can’t even land a quad anymore!”

Minami frowns. “But your step sequences are the best of the best!”

Span sighs. “Come, Div,” he says, “Let the humans be stupid together.” They make their way to Yuuri’s room. Yuuri wants to demand why Minami’s partner isn’t giving him crap for any of this. Maybe Span’s just a grump.

“I can’t,” Yuuri says again, shaking his head. “You have one already, don’t you? How would they feel if you suddenly picked up someone else?”

Minami falls into deep thought. Finally, he exclaims, “Be my choreographer, then!”

“What?! I haven’t choreographed anything in my entire life!”

“But you took ballet! You have a degree in dance! I believe you can do it, Katsuki-senpai!”

Yuuri wants to pull his hair out. Why is this kid so persistent? What has he done to deserve this? “I really—”

“ _Please_?”

Oh no, now he looks like he’s about to cry. Yuuri swallows. _Just say no_ , he thinks, _he’ll be even more disappointed if I give him a bad program. Just say no, and—_ “Okay,” he says.

“Really?!”

 _Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, never choreographed a competitive program in his entire life,_ he thinks. “Yes, I’ll do it, but on one condition.”

“Anything,” Minami declares, stars in his eyes.

“You have to quit being a magical girl.”

Yuuri gives himself a mental pat on the back. Ha, see him try and puppy dog pout his way through that one.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“Katsuki-senpai, be my mentor instead!”

They compromise.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Yuuri buries his face into his pillow and screams. “Why is my life like this.”

Span yawns. “You only have yourself to blame.”

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

_Killer Whale and Firebird: Japan’s New Magical Crime-Fighting Duo?!_ is the newspaper’s next headline. Yuuri throws it in the trash. Every table in Yu-topia has a copy.

“Minami-kun gets pants,” Yuuri complains, refusing to think about how the boy’s outfit looks like his old costume. “I’m in a skirt, Span. A skirt!” _And booty shorts_ , but Yuuri would rather not say that out loud.

“It’s a confidence booster,” says Span, licking his paws.

“I don’t think that means what you think it means!”

Span stops. His half-lidded eyes flicker over to him, and with notable deliberation, he crosses his paws and drawls, “No? Your 100% capture rate says it does.”

Yuuri scowls, but he’s got nothing to say to that.

* * *

Up till now, the media has failed to get a clear picture of Killer Whale. Yuuri prefers to stick to the shadows when he can, taking advantage of Span’s stealth powers. He’s not one to fight on the frontlines; not like Firebird, whose fire element is raw and untamed.

Yuuri worries. Minami is so young, but his fighting style leans toward flashy and upfront…much like a rooster. Three guesses why that is, and the first two don’t count.

“Yuuri-senpai! How was that? I did good, right?” Minami exclaims, waving his hands.

Yuuri can’t help but smile. He leans back against a building, arms crossed over his chest with only one stiletto keeping him propped up. The other is relaxed, not even flat on the ground. “Very good,” he says. “But you could’ve dodged that last attack better.”

“Next time!” Minami says.

“Next time,” Yuuri agrees.

There’s a flash of a camera. By the time they’ve located the source of it, the person is already running away, precious cargo cradled in their hands. Technically, Yuuri is fast enough to catch them, but…

“S-should we chase them?”

“Just let them go,” Yuuri says, sighing. “It’d be bad if we got a reputation for chasing civilians.”

* * *

He immediately regrets this decision the next day. The pap shot of Killer Whale goes viral, even outside of Japan. Magicians are mysterious phenomena to begin with; one as infamous as Killer Whale sets the internet ablaze.

He’s trending on every social media site he can think of. Minami calls blubbering out words that Yuuri can’t understand, but he eventually calms the boy down enough to speak reason. They’re masked; it’s okay. No one knows who they are.

Phichit calls him.

“I am very upset with your right now, Yuuri,” is the first thing he says.

Yuuri chokes. “What? Why?”

“Um, hello? You never told me you were a magical girl!”

“How did you—”

“I lived with you for three years,” Phichit says, steamrolling over him while still somehow sounding patient, “I am a Yuuri Katsuki expert, got the certification and everything. That means I know everything there is to know about Yuuri Katsuki.”

Any other situation and Yuuri would be sighing at Phichit’s dramatics, but this time around he’s genuinely worried. Is anyone else going to recognize him? He can stand Mari knowing, she already have an idea of what he’s up to, but more than that?

Yuuri shudders at the thought. _Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, retired figure skating failure. Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, yesterday’s news_ —well, not anymore.

The new thought is, _Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, Japanese magical girl, expected to save the world._

It makes him want to vomit. He thinks he can taste the bile already.

“And that means,” Phichit continues, “I know exactly what your legs look like. I know exactly what your ass _feels_ like—”

“Are you serious, you found out who I was by—”

“— _And_ I especially know all about your crush on Viktor.”

Yuuri wants to curl up and die. “It’s not a crush,” he says, because it isn’t, okay, he just looks up to him as a figure skater and nothing more—“And what does that have to do with it?”

“Your favorite performance is _The Lilac Fairy_ ,” Phichit says, matter-of-fact. “You cry whenever you watch it. No one else in the world loves that performance as much as you do. You’d probably get married to it if that was legally possible. It’s simple math, Yuuri. Put two and two together and you get four.”

He screams into his pillow instead.

“Finished?” Phichit asks.

Yuuri spends a few more minutes screaming. Finally, voice hoarse, he says, “Yeah. I’m done.”

“Great! Okay, we’re totally FaceTiming and you’re going to tell me _everything_. Everything, Yuuri. Leave nothing out. I better be the world’s leading expert on Killer Whale when you’re done!”

His head is blessedly quiet. The only sound he hears is Phichit’s voice, and Yuuri can’t believe how much he’s missed it. He feels guilty for not calling sooner, guilty because he left Phichit in Detroit without a good explanation, guilty because he’s been a bad friend.

“Okay,” Yuuri says, and he’s smiling. “It’s a long story though…”

* * *

Three days later and he thinks the mass hysteria has died down. Yuuri still hasn’t checked social media just in case he sees another ‘Killer Whale’s Killer Ass Compilation,’ but it’s just a picture. Nothing else is known about him. What’s there to talk about?

Yuuri’s checking his phone as he gets back from his morning run. Earlier, Span made the executive decision to stay in bed, something about no point in going if it wasn’t patrol. It’s not like he would be the one running anyway, Yuuri thinks, but lets him sleep because even Span gets tired from all the irregularities.

 _Five missed calls from Phichit_ , the screen reads. Why would Phichit be calling him?

He steps through the doorway. Something fluffy collides with him, and his gut is telling him to run far, far away. Yuuri feels a vague sense of déjà vu.

“Vicchan?” The poodle on top of him licks his face. “No, it can’t be. You’re too big to be…”

“Makkachin! Don’t be rude!”

Yuuri freezes. Makkachin…?

The weight disappears, and Yuuri slowly sits up. He’s pretty sure he’s dreaming. That’s the only reason why Viktor Nikiforov and Yuri Plisetsky are standing in front of him. This is a dream.

A small, funny-looking fox plush is sitting on the Russian Yuri’s shoulder.

 _Oh no_ , Yuuri thinks. _Oh no, nonononono—_

“What the fuck,” says Yuri Plisetsky.

On the other hand…

“Yuuri!” says Viktor, smile a mile wide. “What a coincidence. I didn’t know you lived here! So sorry for Makkachin. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Here, let me help you up—”

Just then, Minami bursts through the door. “Yuuri-senpai! I just heard a rumor that Viktor Nikiforov is coaching Yuri Plisetsky in Hase…tsu…”

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Why is this happening?

 _Viktor Nikiforov is in my house_ , Yuuri thinks.

Naturally, he faints.

**Author's Note:**

> ??????? what am I doing ?????? I'm in the wrong fandom.
> 
> *looks around, lost*
> 
> I don't know how to write these characters??????? Why am I here. Sorry in advance.
> 
> Edit: to prove how out of my element I am, I made an oopsie with Minami's name LOL. It's now fixed.


End file.
